


The Red Room

by FauxFidele



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #EatTheRare, 50 Shades of Grey Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Hannibal AU, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hanniflynn, M/M, Madancy AU, Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8071285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FauxFidele/pseuds/FauxFidele
Summary: #EatTheRare AU: Dr. John Flynn (50 Shades of Gray) & Dr. Hannibal Lecter The story takes place in a multiverse, 50 Shades meets Hannibal. Will Graham does not exist here. (Sad, I know <3) Dr. John Flynn is the long-time personal psychiatrist to young business mogul Christian Grey. After months of agonizing sessions with Grey and newest acquisition, Anastasia, Flynn calls upon an old friend from John Hopkins in a final moment of desperation.#Hanniflynn?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Characters are not my own. (But the mistakes are!)
> 
> This story contains *SPOILERS* for 50 Shades (Book and movie) 
> 
> Full disclosure: I fucking hate 50 Shades of Grey. I lost a bet with a friend and had to read them in their entirety, so the hatred runs deep through my veins. That's important to know in the context of this story. (:

***

His pen scribbled furiously on the paper, the ink soaking into the fibers and the rapid sound of the pen tip moving back and forth was a constant noise in the background of the office. Dr. John Flynn looked up at the couple in front of him, the room completely silent as he stopped writing. He sighed, forcing a smile.

“Christian,” he said mildly, acknowledging his turn to speak with a nod. He opened his big blue eyes, wide and expectant, and folded his hands together, placing them on top of his desk -- the picture of professionalism. 

The other man scoffed. “Oh, am I allowed to have an opinion now?” He sank deeper into the dark, leather arm chair he sat in, crossing his toned arms as if purposely advertising the amount of time he spends in the gym. 

A small squeak came from his left, in form the form of a waify, pretty brunette. “Please,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically as she fidgeted with the hem on her rather unimpressive floral print blouse. 

Dr. Flynn smiled politely and raised a cautious hand out. “Ana, you’ve had a turn,” he said gently, mustering a kind enough smile that the words didn’t cause offense. He could tell the girl was partial to his highly exotic London accent, and used it here to his advantage. 

She made a childish, pouty face but sighed, and nodded in concession. She slowly leered over at Christian, twirling and tugging at her dark, wavy hair (like always, the doctor noted to himself) and bit down on her lip demonstratively, actively trying to distract him. Christian glared back, shifting in his seat, his eyes searing into her with a rather disconcerting intensity before returning his focus to Dr. Flynn.   

“Dr. Flynn,” he said darkly, adjusting the collar of his perfectly-tailored dress shirt as he straightened in his seat. “She’s unmanageable.” 

Ana made a sour face when he spoke and tried not to giggle. 

Flynn pressed on. _Remember what you’re being paid for this job,_ he told himself. It was his mantra. He nodded politely at Christian, offering overly-round and caring eyes.

“Tell us how you feel, Christian,” he urged. He felt the girl smirking at him as he spoke but he ignored it as he always did, because she was not the one who’d hired him.

“I _feel_ ,” Christian said like a growl, fists clenching into balls, “like locking her away in a closet, away from all the wandering eyes.” Christian hung and shook his head, disparaging. Finally he looked up.

“ … But _she_  won’t let me chain her to the wall.”

Dr. Flynn swallowed a nervous gulp, always a little at ease with the way Christian spoke about the young woman, making the hair prickle on the back of his neck. Ana showed no concern, though, only a hint of amusement behind her eyes.

“You can’t chain me to the wall and hide me inside every time something happens,” she complained, as if she were explaining how to fold laundry to a child, complete with an encouraging smile at the end. 

Christian frowned, furrowing his brows deeply. “I can try.”

Dr. Flynn cleared his throat. “Christian …” 

“You _bought_ the company I work for,” Ana interrupted, whining to Christian. “I think you’ve _managed_ me enough.”

“ _Jesus_ , Christian, is that true?” Dr. Flynn asked, astonished. His heavy lids batted absently for a moment as he processed, trying to level his thoughts.

“She’s mine,” he said, turning a single corner of his mouth into a wry smile, obviously very proud of himself. “I _own_ her.” 

He was somewhat dumbfounded at the revelation, and even more so when Flynn turned to Anastasia, and she was beaming at Christian, staring at him as if he was her sun, moon, and stars.  

“Oh, _Christian_ ,” she cooed bashfully, reaching over to take his hand in her own.

 _For fuck’s sake_ , Flynn thought irritably. He raised his voice a little. “Christian, Anastasia, I’m concerned about --”

“Ana is my only concern, John,” Christian said, his voice firm and his intentions clear. Flynn was not meant to argue -- especially not at the rate he was being paid. He swallowed down a bit of bile and produced an impassive smile, nodding his head. 

Across from him, the couple held hands in a statement of unity, glaring at the doctor.

“ _Naturally,_ ” Flynn said smoothly, “but as you know, I can’t help the concern I have for you as well, Christian.” He shrugged apologetically, hoping it appeared genuine. Ana nodded in absent agreement, so he supposed it did.  

His timer beeped. Finally.

“Oh ... _time’s up_ ,” Flynn said as amicably as possible, standing to his feet and ushering a hand to guide the couple up as well.

They followed Dr. Flynn to the doorway, Christian with his arm wrapped firmly around Ana’s waist. After the niceties and farewells, Christian turned his head over his shoulder as they walked out of the office.

“ _Laters_ , doc,” he said, flicking his eyebrows up suggestively.

Flynn smiled politely, but as soon as he shut the door he let out the longest exhale of relief, enjoying the silence. 

“ _F_ _ucking_ _twats_!” he suddenly grumbled. He threw the leather notebook on his desk, the writing pad face up with all his stupid doodles littered across the page. After Christian started bringing Ana to the sessions, he’d given up on taking notes or attempting to make progress since it was clear they weren’t actually interested in his professional opinion at all.

Dr. Flynn fixed himself a glass of the good scotch, sneaking it from under his desk. He knocked it back in a single gulp and poured another. He relaxed into his chair, nursing the second drink. 

 _Fucking Christian Grey_ , he thought. Christian Grey had been an enigma to him at first; enchanting him with his mysterious, brooding persona and the hidden treasure chest of emotional trauma and personality disorders. Yet, there was something undeniably magnetic about him, too, even beyond the extraordinary good looks; Christian always made you want more.  

More conversation. More confessions of dark deeds. More …. of his collarbone exposed. Flynn took a sip of his drink and shivered. 

“God! I can’t _fucking believe_ I thought I wanted to fuck him,” he said aloud, to no one, finishing the last drops of scotch. He’d be eternally grateful for never having acted on any of those nagging inclinations.

Now he’s stuck as not only Grey’s psychiatrist and confidant, but also his marriage counselor and some kind of mediator of sexual politics. Flynn’s nose scrunched up in disgust. 

_But what could he do?_

The last time he tried to quit, he used every excuse imaginable, going so far to claim he’d received a job offer back home in England. He’d even _found_ a prospect just outside of London for good measure.

However, Christian had kindly presented Flynn and his wife with _her_ dream car that Christmas, with a bonus check of $1,000,000 on the front seat, clipped to a sheet of paper. It required only a signature. A contract. After seeing the way his wife’s eyes lit up at the prospect, it seemed impossible to refuse. It’s only five years, he’d thought. How bad could it be?

Turns out, being Christian Grey’s personal, on-call psychiatrist is a fucking nightmare.

Flynn filled his glass again and took a swig. A thought was swishing around in the back of his brain, but he couldn’t quite grab hold of it. He startled as his phone vibrated, and he dismissed it quickly as soon as saw his wife’s name appear on the screen, shoving it back in his pocket. 

He sat quietly for a few minutes, eyes closed in reflection. Suddenly, Flynn’s body tensed and his eyes sprung open. He jumped from his seat and went shuffling through stacks of paper, aimless at first and then becoming more determined as he narrowed down the search.

“Oh!” he cried out, remembering and switching his focus to a different shelf, pulling out an old stack of books and dusted off a skinny, black catalog. He found a card sticking just out from the edges of the last page and pulled it out with a victorious smile. 

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed the number. It rang only once. Flynn cleared his throat nervously.

“Dr. Lecter, please.”

  
***

He had to admit his curiosity had been effectively piqued. Dr. Hannibal Lecter quit writing mid-sentence when his secretary knocked tepidly on the door, informing him that Dr. John Flynn was on the phone for him.

He nodded and dismissed her.

It had been years since John Flynn had studied under him at John Hopkins, but he recalled the time instantly, the nostalgia bringing a smile to his lips.

“Hello, John,” Dr. Lecter answered warmly, answering the phone.

After a pause while the other man presumably spoke, Dr. Lecter huffed out a laugh.

“Well, I do love a good proposition,” he purred, chuckling a bit as he spoke.

Another pause.  “Is that so?” He hummed out loud, thinking.

“Perhaps I could be of some use to you, John.”  
  
Hannibal Lecter was beaming, looking overjoyed. “Yes, I'll have my secretary rearrange my schedule immediately.”

***


End file.
